Dust if you must… a poem on the perils of housework.

This sweet poem was first published on September 15th 1998 in the 21st edition of The Lady (“in continuous publication since 1885 and widely respected as England’s longest running weekly magazine for women”).

‘Dust if you Must’ was written by Mrs Rose Milligan from Lancaster in Lancashire. Whose name we love too. It being a combination of the classic English bloom and that brilliant comedian, the most excellent Spike Milligan.

We discovered at Tidings and Things on tumblr. Where one of the comments read: “I know my house is perfectly kept when I can write ‘I love you’ with my fingertip in the dust on the furniture.”

A reminder, at the end of a long and dusty week: that not everything always needs to be in it’s place.

(Thanks for the introduction to our great and much loved pal: Mr Edward Clarke of Clapham, London.)

13 thoughts on “Dust if you must… a poem on the perils of housework.

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    You are not judged by the places you’ve been
    The mountains you’ve climbed
    Nor the sunsets you’ve seen
    The stars you have counted
    The dolphins you’ve saved
    you are judged, right or wrong,
    On whether you’re clean.

    When I come round to yours
    I don’t want to sneeze
    Don’t want my inhaler to sort out my wheeze
    Dog hair in the dinner?
    Cat fur in the cream?
    You have to admit its a little obscene
    I think, yes I think, that it’s
    Better to clean…..

    So yes, dust you must
    (As you some day will be)
    But til then it’s better
    (Between you and me)
    To make sure you’re living

    Dust til you hurt
    Til your elbow gives out
    Out with the rubbish
    Off with the dirt
    Then look around
    It’s time for your dreams
    Knowing your place
    Lovely and clean.

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